Twas The Night Before Christmas
by bandgeek06
Summary: COMPLETE This is the sequelepilogue to my story If The Fates Allow. Ron and Hermione have been married for ten years now, and have just had their first baby boy. What happens on a particularly hectic night while Annabel, now fifteen, babysits for them? Fl


**'Twas The Night Before Christmas**

_'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house,  
Every creature was stirring, especially Ron's spouse.  
Three stockings were hung on the chimney by nails,  
One for the female, and two for the males. _

Alex was wailing wildly in his crib,  
While baby spit-up trailed down his bib.  
Hermione in her dress, and Ron in his suit,  
As they tried to calm him, offering fruit.

From out on the porch, the doorbell rang loudly,  
Hermione rushed to the door and opened it proudly.  
In came her sister, little Annabel Granger,  
Who was now a talkative teenager, cautious of danger.

She strutted inside, and waved hello,  
To little Alex down below;  
"We'll be home soon," Hermione said sweetly,  
"And be sure to put back everything neatly."

After their goodbyes, they left the house,  
And now Annabel had to be swift as a mouse.  
For she was their babysitter for the night,  
And she hoped she would do all right.

* * *

"Oh, Ron…I don't know if I can do this." Hermione Weasley shook her head stubbornly as she paced around the room, clinging to her six-month old baby boy, Alex. "I've never left him before. You haven't either! Well…yes, you have. But that was just the weekend for the Cup! Why aren't _you_ getting upset?"

"Hermione, love," said Ron, a slight grin playing at his lips, "we're just going to Harry and Ginny's Christmas party. It's not like we're going to the Moon." He grinned. "And besides, I'm sure Annabel will take excellent care of him."

"I know she will," said Hermione. "I told her I'd take away her make-up kit if she doesn't."

"Well then why are you hyperventilating?"

"I'm not hyperventilating!" she hissed, glaring at Ron over Alex's shoulder. The little baby started to cry, and Ron just smirked at Hermione. "It's alright, Alex," she cooed, her glare still fixed on her incurable husband. "I'm sorry, darling…Mummy just got a little hacked off at your father. It's his fault, you know."

"Hey--!"

"'Mione!" The front door opened, and in walked fifteen-year-old Annabel Granger. At fifteen, she looked exactly like her sister, but had almost the exact opposite personality. She wasn't worried about her marks in school— yet she was still one of the top students in her year (fifth) at Hogwarts—and her whole life revolved around her busy social schedule, which included "shopping for boys." Her classic good looks had owned her many admirers at Hogwarts, but she had yet to narrow down the field to the right prospect. Hermione had an idea of whom that should be, but she kept her mouth shut on _that_ subject.

"Hey, Annabel," said Ron, grinning at her.

"Hey, Ron…is my sister being the overprotective mother again?" Annabel eyed Hermione, who scowled at her over Alex's curly red hair.

"It's good to see you, too, Annabel," said Hermione sarcastically.

"You know you really shouldn't leave the door unlocked, 'Mione," said Annabel, shaking her head mockingly at her sister. "Anybody could just come in and snatch Alex right out of his crib."

"It _is_ locked," said Hermione. "How'd you get in here?"

"I used Alohomora."

Hermione gaped at her younger sister. "You used _magic_? Annabel Elizabeth Gran—"

"'Mione…relax," said Annabel, laughing. "I was joking." She smiled and shook her head. "You really need to get out more, Hermione."

"Which is what tonight is for," said Ron. He walked over to Hermione and gently took Alex out of her arms and into his own. Alex stared at him with his big blue eyes and smiled. Ron's heart sank and soared at the same time. How could he leave his son after he gave him _that_ look? Ron glanced at Annabel and let out a nervous laugh. "Maybe we should do this some other time…"

"Oh no you don't," said Hermione sternly, shaking a finger at him. "Ron, _you're_ the one who's always saying we need time alone together. And weren't you just telling me it's time to let go? And I should relax because Annabel would take good care of him?"

"And I will," Annabel butted in, holding up a finger. "Won't I Alex?" she added, in a baby voice, as she smiled at the baby in Ron's arms. "Yes, I will. Yes, I will. Auntie Annabel will take good care of you, won't she? Yes, she will. Yes, she will."

"Anna," said Hermione, shaking her head, "don't patronize him. Talk to him like he's a human being and not some type of science project."

"But he likes it when I talk to him that way," Annabel protested, looking back at Alex. "Don't you, Alex?"

Alex smiled his toothless grin, and clapped his little hands.

"Aww," Hermione cooed, staring at Alex sadly. "Look at him, Ron. I can't do this…go home, Anna. We're not going anywhere."

"Yes you are!" Annabel softly took Alex from Ron. "See." She pointed at Alex, who looking very content from his position on her shoulder. "He's fine. Go…please…I, personally, hate it when Mum and Dad act like you two are acting. I mean, honestly, I'm fifteen for heaven's sake! I can go out with my friends! I can get a tattoo--!"

"ANNA!"

"I'm joking!" Annabel laughed. "You're such a spoilsport, Hermione."

"No, I'm not." Hermione glanced at Ron, then back at Annabel, then at Alex, then at Ron again, and sighed. "I suppose we should go."

"Yes…I suppose too!" Annabel nodded vigorously and smiled. "Go you two…have fun. Nothing's better than a night out on the town with the one you love."

Hermione looked around at her sister and raised her eyebrows skeptically. "How would you know?"

Annabel laughed nervously, flushing a bit.

"Oh, well, you know…that darn television—"

"It better be…I'm not dumb, Annabel. I know you're starting to have feelings for boys."

"Hermione, please." Annabel shook her head, blushing. "I don't need the talk about boys and girls. Mum's already given it to me."

Hermione nodded smugly and gave Annabel's upper arm a quick pat. "Mum's advice is terrible. Take it from someone who knows." She glanced at Ron over her shoulder. "Ready, love?"

Ron nodded. "Yeah."

"Alright," said Hermione. She lovingly stroked Alex's hair and placed a quick kiss on his smooth forehead. "Mummy loves you, Alex. We're just going to be gone for a little while. Not even an hour—"

"Hermione…"

"Okay, maybe two, but that doesn't mean we don't love you any less." She smiled and kissed Alex again. "And I'm sure your aunt will take good care of you because if she doesn't—" Hermione looked up at Annabel with narrowed eyes "—I will personally make sure she never goes near her wand or an electronic appliance again."

Annabel smiled at her sister through gritted teeth. "Go Hermione…leave _now_."

"Okay." Hermione nodded and gave Alex one last kiss before walking towards the front door, where Ron was waiting patiently. "Oh!" she suddenly cried, whipping around. "I almost forgot…Alex is teething so he might be a little irritable. It's best if you try to put him to sleep that way, but don't jump him up and down like he's a ball, rock him in the rocking chair upstairs in our room."

She paused to take a breath. "And he might get hungry later on—"

"There's some bottles in the fridge, burp him, change his nappy, and put him to sleep…I know, Hermione! Merlin…" Annabel sighed irritably. "GO!"

"Alright, alright, we're going," said Hermione hastily, as Ron opened the door. "Ready?"

Ron nodded. "Yes. 'Bye Alex." He placed a kiss on Alex's forehead, just as Hermione had, and the two of them left, Hermione yelling, "Take care of my baby!" the whole way.

Annabel shook her head, chuckling, as she looked down at Alex. "We're going to have a fun night, aren't we, Al?"

* * *

"Oh, Alex, please shut _up_ for Auntie Annabel."

Alex was wailing hysterically in Annabel's ears, as he had been for the past hour and a half. It had only stopped when she shoved his pacifier into his mouth about half an hour earlier, but he spit it out on her brand new blouse and just wailed even louder. Annabel's ears were starting to ring and she was sure she'd go deaf if he continued to cry so shrilly. She rocked him in the rocking chair, and even tried singing to him, but he just _wouldn't stop._

"Do you miss your Mummy and Dad? Is that it?"

Alex's wailing subsided slightly — but only slightly. Annabel's ears stopped ringing, much to her gratitude, and a bright light went off in her brain. If Alex's problem was being away from Ron and Hermione, she could show him pictures of the two of them. Maybe _that_ would stop his crying.

"D'you want to see them, Alex? I can show you pictures." She eagerly got up from the chair and walked over to the corner of the room, where Hermione stored all of the photo albums. "I'm just going to put you down for a second, Al, alright?" Annabel carefully laid Alex down on Ron and Hermione's bed and picked up the first photo album in the stack labeled _Our Wedding_ in fancy, gold letters. "See…this says, 'Our Wedding.'" She pulled Alex up into her lap and propped the photo album up on her thighs so that they could both get a good look at the photos.

The first picture was of Hermione in her wedding robes, and she was beaming happily at the camera.

Alex reached out a little hand and fingered the picture gingerly, a look of familiarity crossing his face. He opened his mouth, but all that came out was a little wail.

"Yes…that's your Mummy…can you say Mummy?"

"Mmmu." Alex opened his mouth and stared back around at Annabel with a puzzled expression on his face. He shook his head.

Annabel laughed. "That's alright…you're close." She turned the page. "And there's your dad and another picture of your mum… And here's one of the two of them together. D'you think they look different? This was ten years ago, you know."

By the time Annabel and Alex had looked through the entire wedding album, Annabel could tell Alex was itching for anther one, so she reached into the stack of photo albums and pulled out a black box with the words _Special Moments_ etched across the top. Curious, Annabel pulled the lid of the box off and inside she found four photos organized in a little stack—four Muggle photos.

"Hmm," said Annabel under her breath. "Wonder who took these. I didn't know your parents had a Muggle camera." Annabel took out a picture and looked at it closely. It was a picture of Ron out on the back porch as he looked up at the sky. It was obviously at night because the scenery around him was so dark, but he was still very noticeable for the reason that his vivid red hair stuck out like a sore thumb. There was a little piece of parchment attached to the bottom of the picture that read in rather messy handwriting, _'27 November: 19:35 – Found out Hermione was pregnant.'_

Alex touched the picture with his index finger and made a cooing noise after realizing it was his father.

"'Found out Hermione was pregnant'?" Annabel repeated, rather confused. She looked at Alex and grinned. "What went on _that_ night?"

* * *

It seemed stupid for Ron to sit out on the back porch in the middle of a particularly chilly winter, but he was doing it anyway. He could almost feel the cold air biting at his skin, changing his pale skin to raw red almost instantly. He just shivered and leaned back further in his chair.

The sky was masked with brilliant silver stars that twinkled and winked at him in the distance. He remember a time when Hermione used to sit out here with him, and she'd point out all the constellations and explain fascinating theories to him about how they got there, and what they meant, and how they were formed, and why. But all that didn't matter. Hermione wasn't there with him now. He had to find the constellations on his own. He had to file through his brain and try to remember the numerous theories Hermione had explained to him.

_'When Annabel was a little girl, she thought the stars were God's salt, and we were the food, and the end of the world would come whenever He got hungry enough to eat us.' _

That was his favorite. It sounded so innocent and, even though Ron knew that was probably far from the truth, it was fun to think about.

"Ron!" Hermione called from inside the house. "Ron! Come on…I _need_ you!"

Ron groaned and cursed under his breath. He and Hermione had been married for nearly ten years now, and she was obsessed with getting pregnant. Ron, for his part, was not so sure.

At first, it was fun trying to get pregnant. They could spend hours upon hours in bed, wrestling intimately, but as time progressed without the positive outcome of pregnancy, Hermione began to get desperate. She started taking fertility potions and jumped on Ron every chance she got, that is, until she started the ovulating thing.

Ron hated the ovulating thing. He utterly despised the ovulating thing. Nothing in the world would measure up to the level of disgust Ron felt towards the ovulating thing. Not only was Hermione more determined than ever, which made her quite unbearable to live with, but he couldn't _touch_ her unless she was ovulating, and—ironically enough—she always picked the _worst_ times to ovulate. They were never at home when she started ovulating. They were always at work, or at someone's house, or out in public somewhere and they could never find a place to shag. And so they had to put off their monthly shag-session, and wait for the next month, when Hermione would start ovulating again. All in all, Ron had barely _been_ with his wife in the past eight months.

"Ronald Bilius Weasley!" Hermione shouted. "Get your sexy arse in here right now!"

Ron laughed despite himself. Although their friendship skills were top notch from hardly being able to have sex, he missed her. He missed the Hermione he married, the Hermione who would make mad passionate love to him because she _wanted_ to, and not because she was hoping for a baby nine months later. They used to be so well in sync, but now Ron wasn't even sure if Hermione _enjoyed_ shagging anymore. Hell, he didn't even enjoy it that much, but he did it anyway to keep her happy. And he knew she wanted a baby more than anything in the world, so he was willing to make the necessary sacrifices.

Ron let out a small sigh and lifted himself from his chair to go back inside the house and shag his needy wife. He desperately wanted—no _needed_ to shag her so badly that he was almost burning with lust, but that nagging voice in the back of his head thought otherwise.

_So what if you want her…does she want you?_

"Hi, 'Mione," said Ron lazily as he trudged into the room. "Just let me get undressed and we'll—"

"Where have you been?" his bushy-haired wife asked him from her position on the bed. "Outside again? Ron…it's freezing out there…you're going to get sick."

"No, I'm not," said Ron, shaking his head in protest. "I never get sick."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I beg to differ…remember that holiday we took in France to visit Ginny? You spent half the trip vomiting on Nicolas' shoes."

Ron smiled sheepishly. "I cleaned them up, didn't I? And that's not the point, 'Mione. I was just outside thinking. I go outside whenever I need to think…you know that. It helps clear my head."

"Right," said Hermione. "What were you thinking about that took you fifteen minutes to get up here?"

"Us," said Ron as he moved to sit next to her on the bed.

"What about us?"

"Do you think we've changed?" asked Ron. "I mean, not literally, but ever since we started trying to get pregnant."

"That's what I needed you for," she said, smiling a little. "We don't have to keep trying, love."

"Really?" Hermione nodded. "Does that mean…"

"I'm pregnant!" she squealed, throwing her arms around his neck.

"Really?" Ron eyes were wide as he hugged her back. "Really…I mean…when—"

"I found out just now. I took the pregnancy test your mum got for me a few weeks ago—I think she wants me to get pregnant more than I do."

"She probably does," Ron admitted. "But wow…you're pregnant." He really didn't know what to say. He was happily speechless and had a wide smile plastered on his face.

"Yes," said Hermione, grinning.

"There's a baby," Ron said, looking down at her stomach and stroking the skin lightly, "in there."

Hermione nodded silently.

"Lean back," Ron told her gently. She obliged and got comfortable on her favorite pillow, on her grandmother made for her when she was a little girl. She loved that pillow—it was one of the few heirlooms Hermione had that reminded her of her grandmother, who had fallen ill tragically of cancer. She hoped that one day, she could pass the pillow on to her daughter.

Ron hitched up her shirt so that her bare midriff was showing. He leaned down and placed a soft kiss right above Hermione's bellybutton. "Hi," he whispered to her stomach, "I'm your dad."

Hermione smiled at him and gently stroked his brilliant copper hair as he continued to talk.

"Your mum says hi, too. We can't wait for you to come out. You know how long we've wanted you? A long while now, almost a year. That's a lot of time, trust me, almost as long as you'll be in there."

He paused and began to lightly stroke Hermione's stomach once more. "You're probably thinking, 'Bloody hell, my dad's a daft idiot' right about now—"

"_Ron_!" That earned him a quick, hard, and painful slap in the back of his head.

"Sorry…I know I'm probably not supposed to swear in front of you…I'll work on that for the next couple of months." Ron lifted his head and turned to look at Hermione. "The baby needs a name."

"I know, but it's a bit early to start picking out baby names, Ron."

"Not a formal name," he said. "Just a name so we won't call the baby 'it' or something."

"How about just Baby?" Hermione suggested.

Ron frowned and sat up to join her at the head of the bed. "That's not very original. I was thinking something like Skeeter or Buddy or Mate."

"Skeeter?" Hermione giggled

"Just a suggestion," said Ron, shrugging.

"Alright," Hermione said. "Mate it is."

"Really?"

Hermione nodded.

"But I'm afraid it's time for me and Mate to go to sleep."

"Right," Ron said, and he placed one last kiss on Hermione's midriff. "'Night, mate. I love you," he whispered.

"You're so cute," Hermione commented, grinning as she snuggled into the sheets.

Ron blushed. "I try."

"I love you," said Hermione before kissing him shortly.

"I love you."

Ron and Hermione drifted off into a peaceful sleep, his hand covering her stomach protectively.

* * *

"Well…I guess that's the night your parents found out you were coming," Annabel told Alex, as she placed the picture of Ron to the side. She picked up the next photo, which wasn't of Ron, but of Hermione — a very angry Hermione. Her face was set into an angry scowl, her arms were over her pregnant stomach, and she was glaring at something beyond the camera.

Alex made a little wailing noise.

"Yeah…I know what you mean." Annabel shuddered. "I've only seen that look on her once before, and that was when I told your father that she had collected stuffed animals up until she was twenty." Annabel noticed there was a piece of parchment attached to this photo as well, but this one read, in the same messy handwriting, _' 22 April: 21:45 – My favorite Hermione-pregnant-mood swing.'_

Annabel laughed. "'My favorite Hermione-pregnant-mood swing.' I didn't know your dad had favored your mum's mood swings."

Alex clapped his hands and smiled toothlessly at his angry mother. "Mmmu."

* * *

Hermione was pissed; and not in the sense that she was drunk, either. She was pissed, as in angry to the infinite power.

Pissed probably wasn't a native word in relevance to angry in Britain, but she didn't care. It was once described on an episode of a crude American cartoon where the little construction paper little boys swore like sailors, and they were barely ten—South Park it was called.

But that didn't matter because she was pissed. And it wasn't her fault. It was that damn baby's fault. She wished she could yank the ruddy thing out of her so she'd stop having these bloody mood-swings, food cravings, and the everlasting need to constantly relieve herself in the loo.

_Where the bloody hell is he? It's nearly nine at night. He should be home by now. And if he doesn't have my chocolate, I'll kill him! _

"Hermione, calm down," said Ginny Potter and she halfheartedly leafed through the latest issue of _Witch Weekly_. "He'll be here. You know Ron. He doesn't know the meaning of the word 'punctual.'"

"Mum's right, Auntie," said ten-year-old Nicolas Potter from the kitchen. "Uncle Ron's never had good timing."

Hermione looked down at her swollen stomach and sighed. "He's supposed to be home, Gin. Why isn't he? What if something's happened to him?"

"He's at a Quidditich game, Hermione, and he's not playing either," said Ginny. "What can possibly happen to him in the stands?"

"The stands could collapse, or a flying Bludger could knock him out—oh, Ginny…what if my husband has _lost his head_??"

"Your husband lost his head ages ago," said Ginny, rolling her eyes.

Nicolas laughed.

"Thanks for laughing, Nicky." Ginny winked at her son. He smiled in reply.

"I'm being literal, Ginny," said Hermione, biting her lip. "What if something's happened to him?"

"Hermione." Ginny tossed _Witch Weekly_ aside and moved to sit beside Hermione on the settee. "Relax, alright? _I'm_ the one who should be worried. _My_ husband of _two_ years, who constantly hurts himself during that bloody sport, is _playing_ in the game."

"Well, I'm worried about Harry, too," said Hermione, "but if something happened to Ron…"

Two cracks announced the arrival of the two men Hermione and Ginny were currently married to, each holding bags with souvenirs from the game and looking tired, yet happy.

"We won," Harry said unnecessarily with a smile.

"Where _have_ you been?" Hermione yelled, jumping up from the settee—as much as she could, being pregnant and all. "Do you have _any_ idea how worried I've been? You couldn't have sent a _note_ saying that you would be gone later than expected? You could have _died_, Ron!"

"Hermione, love—"

"Don't 'Hermione, love' me, Ronald Weasley!" she snapped, slowly walking towards him. Ron's ears were bright red and he was slowly backing away from his angry, pregnant wife. "We were supposed to pick out baby names tonight! Or do you just want to call your child 'mate' his whole his whole life?"

"_Her_ whole life, Hermione," Ron corrected, very cautiously, but it didn't matter how placating his tone was because that set Hermione off, even more so than she had been.

"How _dare_ you contradict me!" she screamed, her eyes ablaze in rage. "Now is not the time to argue back, Ronald!"

"Uh, Hermione," said Ginny as she and Harry exchanged terrified looks. "We're going to go home—"

"Do you have any idea, Ron? ANY IDEA?" Hermione's voice screamed, drowning out Ginny's.

"I'm sorry," was Ron's futile reply. "I just…I wasn't thinking."

"You're bloody well right you weren't thinking!" cried Hermione . "Ron, don't you understand? I can't function right if I don't know where you are! If I lost you…"

She broke off and crossed her arms over her chest. Shaking her head, she looked back at Ron and sighed. "I need to stop…I'm just tired. We'll pick out baby names tomorrow."

"Hermione…" Ron moved to touch her, but she jerked away from him.

"No, Ron…I'm tired," she said firmly. "I'm going to bed." Hermione hugged Harry, Ginny, and Nicolas before walking up the stairs without another glance Ron's way.

There was an awkward silence for a few moments, until a loud SLAM sounded from upstairs, making them all jump in alarm.

Ron felt really stupid. Hermione had been in a right state for seven months now, and he had learned—or at least he thought he had—to tread lightly around her, but he just slipped. Perhaps his feet were just too big to tread lightly.

"Well…erm…" he said awkwardly, "I reckon we'll call it a night."

"Yeah," said Harry, and he and Ginny nodded. "We'll see you soon, then?"

Ron nodded in response. "Come on…I'll walk you out."

Harry, Ginny, and Nicolas followed Ron down the hallway to the front door.

"Bye Harry, Ginny, see you later Nick," Ron added, ruffling the little boy's short red hair.

"Bye, Uncle Ron," he replied, not bothering to tidy his already wilted hair. Harry, Ginny, and Nicolas exited the house with a few extra goodbyes, and Ron closed the door quietly behind them.

"Ron! Will you come here please?" Hermione's voice wasn't harsh or mean or irate, at least by Ron's loose standards. He cautiously walked up the stairs and into their room. Hermione was sitting in the rocking hair, and she instantly got up—as quick as she could, being pregnant and all.

"Hey," Ron said quietly. "What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry," she said automatically. "I just…I've been moody lately, and I've been bored out of my mind…ever since I entered my third trimester, I haven't been able to do much, and it still gets on my nerves. I'm sorry, Ron, really I am—"

"I know, love…I'm sorry, too," he said as he moved forward to capture his wife in a loving hug. "I know…it's alright."

Hermione shoulders started to shake slightly, and Ron looked down to see her bushy hair, her head burrowed into Ron's chest. "I've been a horrible wife!" she wailed, her voice muffled as she pounded her fists on Ron's shoulders. He grit his teeth; ever since Hermione had been pregnant, she had developed super strength and could make him cry by simply squeezing his hand.

"No, 'Mione," he said soothingly, stroking the small of her back with his thumb. He knew that was one of her Achilles' heels, and as expected, she almost instantly relaxed and molded to him. "You're just tired, love, have you been sleeping well?"

"Pretty much," said Hermione, yawning. "You try sleeping when little Alexander Matthew is kicking at your stomach."

"Alexander Matthew?" Ron smirked and raised his eyebrows. Hermione looked up at him, her eyes rather red, and smiled.

"Yes, Alexander Matthew," she said. "Alex for short. That's his name."

"What's _her_ name?" Ron inquired curiously.

"Emily Grace," Hermione answered promptly as she untangled herself from Ron's grasp and padded over to the loo.

"I must admit," Ron called to her while slipping off her shoes, "that I like the name Emily Grace for out little girl. Although I _am_ a bit disappointed that you picked it out without me."

"I've had that name picked out for ages, Ron!" She walked out of the loo and climbed into bed. "And my mother was livid when I told her. She always expected that my little girl would be named after her." She rolled her eyes. "Honestly. Emily Elizabeth Weasley?"

"It doesn't sound that bad, Hermione," Ron admitted, rummaging through his bureau for his pajamas. "Emily Elizabeth…it has a ring to it."

"I suppose." Hermione shrugged. "But I don't fancy the idea of my daughter going through life with the initials E.E.W"

Ron smiled. "I see your point. E.G.W sounds much better."

"And Alexander Matthew," said Hermione, laughing a little, "my father turned bright red when I told him that. He couldn't believe I used his name as a middle name for Alex. Annabel said she loved it…"

"Really?" Ron quickly changed clothes and slipped into bed next to Hermione.

"You know she's taking her O.W.L's next year? She's staying home for Easter," Hermione went on quickly. "Do you think she has a boyfriend? No, she'd tell me if she did. Or would she? What do you think, Ron?"

"I'm sure she would," said Ron, kissing Hermione's stomach. "Goodnight, Emily."

"Alex," Hermione corrected him, stroking her stomach tenderly.

"Emily…"

"Alex…"

"Emily…"

"Alex…"

"Emily…"

* * *

"Alex! No darling… Don't bite the photograph, dear." Annabel gently took the picture from the baby's hands and placed it back in the box. "Doesn't taste very good."

Alex let out a little wail, and picked up the next photograph with his pudgy hands. It was a picture of Ron, Hermione, and a little bundle that was cradled in Hermione's arms — Alex. They were obviously in the hospital — Hermione was still wearing her hospital dress and Ron had on his paper delivery cap chucked on his head (clashing terribly with his hair), and they were both smiling brightly at the camera. Another piece of parchment was attached to the bottom of the picture: _7 June: 15:48 — Alexander Matthew Weasley, our first son, is born. _

"This is you, Alex," said Annabel, pointing to the little bundle wrapped in Hermione's arms. "This is you when you were just born."

Alex smiled and fingered the section of the picture he was in.

Annabel grinned reminiscently at the picture, and kissed Alex's forehead softly. "That was the day you were born…"

* * *

"Come on, Ron, please."

"No."

"Please. I'm thirty-three. I'm at my sexual peak."

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

Hermione frowned at him and put her hands on her hips. "Why won't you shag me, Ron?"

"Bloody hell—"

"Stop swearing!"

"—Hermione," he continued, ignoring her. "You have no idea how much I want you, but I can't, love. I'm working. The Cup is coming up next week, and I've really got to get this proposal done."

"But, as I told you, if we shag, it'll help induce labor and—as much as I love being pregnant—I really want Alex to come out."

"I really want Emily to come out, too," Ron said, looking up from his desk, books and parchment suffocating him all four sides. They were in the study, discussing whether or not to shag so that Hermione would finally go into labor.

"Ron, please, come on… You've been working non-stop for the past two weeks!" Hermione rubbed her stomach. "And I really want Alex out."

"I thought you liked being pregnant," Ron said. "Don't you like eating anything you want?"

"I can't eat anything I want," said Hermione.

"Yes, you can."

"No, I can't."

"Fine." Ron looked up at her. "What can't you eat?"

"You," she answered in a sultry tone, winking suggestively at him.

Ron raised his eyebrows. "Love, have you been mixing potions again?"

"Oh, come on, Ron…cooperate with me!" she said irritably. "It's because I'm fat, isn't it?" said Hermione sadly. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked down at her shoes. "My husband doesn't think I'm pretty enough!" she wailed.

"Hermione," Ron groaned. "Come on…number one: you're faking…you're a horrible liar…it's one of your best qualities. Number two: I've told you dozens of times that I don't think you're fat. You're pregnant…you're glowing, love. You're not fat."

"Fine," said Hermione. "Fine…I'll just be miserable for the next couple of weeks."

"No you won't," said Ron. "Aren't you hungry? Have you had lunch?"

"Yes, two of them."

"Well, can you bring me a third?"

Hermione glared at him.

"Thanks, love." Ron smiled and winked at her before returning to work.

Hermione merely grumbled and exited the room. She took her time going down the stairs, and she took tiny, dainty steps into the hallway. Finally, she entered the kitchen and proceeded to make Ron a sandwich.

It was while tearing the lettuce that it happened. A sharp pain shot through her abdomen, followed by a very painful cramp. The lettuce fluttered out of her hand, as she clutched her stomach in pain. Hermione bit her lip to stop the groan that was threatening to erupt from her lips.

"Okay," she breathed out, as the pain started to subside. "Alright…probably just indigestion."

Two minutes later, another cramp hit her, and the plate she was holding fell to the floor with a loud _crash!_ Hermione grit her teeth and reminded herself to breath.

_Whoo…whoo…whoo…_

The pain began to subside again, and Hermione let out a sigh of relief. She moved to grab a serviette, but when she heard the _squish, squish_ of her shoes, she froze. Hermione looked down at the floor and her heart jerked slightly. A puddle of water was staring up at her.

Her water had broken.

"Ron!" Hermione called immediately. "Ron! Darling! I really need you to come downstairs!"

No answer.

"Please!"

Moments later, she heard Ron's heavy feet as they padded around the second landing. He appeared at the banister and look down at her expectantly. "Yes?"

"It's time," she said, rubbing her stomach.

Ron eyes went wide, and he let out an incoherent noise. "Really? T-time? Are you sure?"

"I'm positive," said Hermione, as another pain rippled through her. She doubled over and clutched the banister for support. Ron soundly ran down the stars to tend to her, but she waved him off. "I'm fine," she breathed out quickly. "Get my bag."

"Alright. Sure you're okay?"

Hermione nodded and waved him off. "Go!"

Ron rushed upstairs and into their room, where he grabbed Hermione's overnight bag and rushed downstairs again. "What should we do? Can you Apparate? Floo-powder? We don't have a car…"

"I'll Apparate," said Hermione. She was standing up straight and didn't seem to be in any pain.

"Are you sure?" said Ron uncertainly. "I mean, what if you have a contraction again and you splinch yourself?"

"Well…let's wait until I have another one, then," said Hermione. "They're a few minutes apart…we'll be able to—ahh!" She sucked in a breath and clutched her stomach again. Ron wrapped an arm around her took her right hand comfortingly. She breathed long, deep breaths, her face was flushed, and beads of sweat were breaking out on her forehead. Ron stared at her, helpless and worried. He wished he could take away her pain—all of it.

"You okay?" he asked her, as she grabbed her wand.

"Yeah." Hermione nodded reassuringly and kissed his cheek. "Let's go."

Moments later, they found themselves in the reception area of Hermione's clinic. Several witches were sitting patiently in the assorted chairs and didn't even look up when Ron and Hermione materialized in front of them.

Another pain hit Hermione, and she grabbed onto Ron for support. She seemed determined not to scream or groan in any way to let anyone know of her condition, but her beet red face and pained expression gave her away.

"Hermione!" said Shaina, pleasantly surprised as she walked into the room. "What are you doing here? What's wrong? Are you alright?"

"She's in labor," Ron answered for Hermione, who seemed too busy trying to breath to speak.

Shaina's eyes went wide, and she smiled happily. "Really? That's wonderful! I—"

"Shaina—labor—_now_!" Hermione breathed out, squeezing Ron's hand painfully. He grit his teeth.

"Oh, right, sorry." Shaina smiled apologetically. She waved her wand, and Hermione floated into the air. Ron looked over at Shaina in alarm. "Don't worry, Ron," she said. "Women in labor can't walk too well, so we levitate them."

"Oh." Ron nodded, and then followed Shaina and his floating wife into the delivery room. It was a small room with off-white walls, a bed with blue starched sheets, and two chairs in each corner. Shaina waved her wand again, and Hermione was gently put into the bed. And with another wave, Hermione's clothes were changed into a white hospital dress. Shaina lifted the levitating charm off of Hermione.

"Are you comfortable?" she asked.

Hermione bit her lip as she nodded vigorously.

"Alright…I'll go get Hayden." Shaina smiled at Ron before exiting the room.

Ron dragged the chair in the corner to Hermione's bedside, and he grabbed her hand. "How're you feeling?"

Hermione let out a long breath. "Awful," she finally said truthfully.

"Oh, love…I'm so sorry…I wish we could trade places—"

Hermione interrupted him with a laugh. "Like hell. After you've had one of these contractions, you'd kill yourself."

Ron opened his mouth to retort, but Hermione had another contraction and she squeezed Ron's hand forcefully. "Oww," he whined.

"See—what—I—mean," she breathed out.

"Hello Hermione, Ron," said Hayden. "How're you doing today?"

"Hayden, cut the crap and just check if I'm dilating so I can start pushing," Hermione snapped, just as another contraction hit. "Good lord…they're coming fast, Hayden!"

He reached under Hermione's dress and nodded. "Ahh yes, Miss Granger, you are in fact fully dilated, so go ahead and push."

Another contraction came, and Hermione bore down on her chest, her face red, her bushy hair glued to her cheeks by sweat.

"Good," Hayden said encouragingly. "Emily's head is coming down, Hermione."

"Alex," she said through gritted teeth, as another contraction swept over her. She bore down once again, breathing loudly through her mouth. "Alex."

"Whatever you say, dear." Hayden smiled. "Alright you're crowning…we're about ready to have this baby! Push, 'Mione, push!"

Hermione pushed with all her might, she pushed with every ounce she had left of energy, and just when she felt like she would die if she had to push any more, the crying of a baby rang through her ears. Her heart stopped for a mere second, and she looked down at Hayden, who was holding her baby in his arms.

"Alex," he said, smiling, as she wrapped the little boy in the blanket. "Alex with the curly red hair."

Ron let out a happy laugh, and he kissed Hermione's forehead, muttering, "I love you, I love you" over and over again.

Hayden gently passed Alex into Hermione's open arms, and she stared down at him adoringly. "Oh Ron…he looks just like you. Same nose…same hair…freckles…"

Ron merely nodded and softly stroked his son's hair. "Hey, mate," he said. Alex instantly stopped crying and he stared up at Ron curiously. "Remember me? I'm your dad."

"And I'm your mum," said Hermione, tears welling up in her eyes. She swallowed and smiled. He was so perfect. She felt like her heart would burst from happiness. Her family was complete…_she_ was complete. "We've waited for you for a long while, Alex. Yes we have, and you're such a beautiful baby boy. So perfect…"

"You were right, Hermione," Ron told her, grinning. "Alex."

Hermione smiled and kissed Ron's lips. "I was, wasn't I?" They shared a special smile before returning their attention to their newborn baby boy.

* * *

"One more picture left," said Annabel, as she put the picture of Ron, Hermione, and Alex in the hospital to the side. The last picture was one of a very tired looking Hermione as she sat in the rocking chair, Alex in her arms, with his mouth wide open and his arms out of his protective blanket. Yet another piece of parchment was attached to this photo: _9 June: 04:38 — First night at home with Alex. _

"Wow," said Annabel, staring down at the picture. "Four in the morning. Your mum doesn't look too thrilled, does she?"

Alex fingered Hermione's picture and smiled. "Mmmu."

* * *

"Oh, Alex, sweetie, _please_ stop crying for Mummy," Hermione cooed over Alex's screams as she rocked him steadily in the rocking chair.

"I don't understand," said Ron, frustrated as he ran his fingers through his shaggy red hair. "We've done everything. We've changed his nappy, we've fed him, we've burped him, so now—due to the human nature, he should go to sleep, right?"

Hermione nodded soundlessly as she continued her desperate attempt to rock her newborn baby to sleep. It was their first night as parents, and already both Ron and Hermione were ready to pull their hairs out. Alex just wouldn't stop crying. He wouldn't! And they had tried _everything_!

"I'm going to go deaf, I know it," said Ron as he took Alex out of Hermione's arms to give her a break. He looked down at his wailing baby and smiled. "Hey there, Alex. What's wrong, mate?"

Alex's wailing subsided slightly, and he stared up at Ron in familiarity. He started to move his mouth, as if he were talking to Ron, but all that came out were these little gurgling noises.

Hermione stared at him, both upset and amazed. How was it that all Ron had to do was say, "mate" and Alex would stop crying?

_Probably a father thing…_

"I think he's trying to talk, 'Mione," said Ron, smiling.

"So do I," Hermione said with a yawn. "So, you can have your conversation while I go back to sleep."

"Okay," Ron said. He switched places with Hermione so that he was sitting in the rock chair, rocking Alex, who was cradled in his arms. "We'll try to be quiet."

"Thank you," said Hermione gratefully, as she gave both Ron and Alex quick kisses, and then climbed into her and Ron's bed.

Ron was happy to see that Alex's eyelids were started to droop slightly, and soon the baby boy was fast asleep. Ron continued to rock the chair as Alex slept. He looked so adorable while asleep. He had this cute little hint of a smile on his lips, his tiny hand was tucked up under his chin, and his pale face was glowing with relaxation.

Alex really was Ron's child. He was the spitting image of his father, right down to the dusted freckles and elongated nose. But what Ron didn't understand was how Alex was so cute. Ron had never thought of himself as particularly handsome, but Alex certainly was.

_Must be the Hermione in him._

Ron also wondered how far the Hermione in Alex would go. Would he be a lover of books? Or would he be more like Ron, and be a lover of Quidditch? Or would he be in the middle somewhere, a perfect mix of the two?

_A perfect mix._

For the next few hours, Ron sat in the rocking chair, admiring Alex's every feature, until he himself started to get rather drowsy. He felt himself starting to doze off, but, of course, Alex started to cry at that very moment.

"Oh, Alex…you and your perfect timing," said Ron tiredly. "Shh…it's alright…what's wrong, mate?"

Alex just cried harder.

"What's happened?" cried Hermione as she jumped up from the bed. "Is he alright?"

"I reckon he's hungry," Ron told her over Alex's cries.

"Alright. Give him to me."

Ron carefully handed Alex to Hermione, and she sat on the bed. "Turn around," she told Ron.

"Why?"

"Because I'm about to breast feed," Hermione explained, "and I don't—"

"Oh, come on, Hermione," said Ron, throwing his hands up in the air, "it's not as if I haven't seen your breasts, Hermione. We've been married for ten years!"

"I know, Ron, but—"

She broke off and blushed a little. "They're different now. I mean…"

"Am I ever going to get to see them again?" asked Ron. "I mean, when are they going to make a private appearance for you husband?"

Hermione blushed even more, and she bit her lip. "Just until I get used to them, Ron. Please, Ron, turn around."

"Hermione…"

"Please?" she said pleadingly, looking incredibly torn. "Please?"

Ron ran his hand through his hair and nodded. "Alright…fine," he said before slowly turning around. It took several minutes for Alex to finish eating, and when he did, Hermione said, "You can turn around, Ron."

Alex had stopped crying and was in the process of going back to sleep for the third time that night. Ron went over to sit on the bed next to Hermione, and they both looked down at their son.

"Can you believe he's ours?" Hermione said suddenly. "I mean…he actually came out of me. We created him. Isn't that amazing?"

"Yeah, it is," Ron agreed with a nod. "Sometimes I think he's someone else's, you know, and we're just babysitting for them."

"Me too." Hermione ran a finger down Alex's noise. "He has your nose."

"I know," said Ron grimly. "Don't remind me."

"Why not?" Hermione asked, looking around at her husband. "I love your nose."

"I don't," said Ron, fingering his nose. "It's too long."

"No, it's not," said Hermione, shaking her head. "I think it's perfect."

Ron looked at her with raised eyebrows. "You're my wife…you're suppose to say that, 'Mione."

She smiled and moved to kiss his nose. "There's just more of you to kiss."

Ron grinned cheekily. "I like that idea."

"I know you do," Hermione whispered as her face moved towards his. Just as they were about to kiss, Alex started wailing once again.

"You and your perfect timing, Alex," Ron groaned, as Hermione tried to quiet the baby down.

"I think he needs his nappy changed, Ron," said Hermione. She handed Alex to Ron. "Here…you take his nappy off while I go get his bag."

"But Hermione—"

"Do it," she said sternly before rising from her seat on the bed and disappearing down the hall.

"Alright," said Ron to himself as he rearranged Alex so that he was lying on Ron's shoulder. The baby let out a loud belch, just as Ron got up from the bed. "Nice one," Ron commented with a chuckle. "Maybe your mum was wrong…you don't need your nappy changed, do you?"

Alex blinked.

"I'll take that as a maybe," said Ron. He took a blanket from off of the nearest chair, spread it out on the floor, and carefully laid Alex down on it. Ron unbuttoned Alex's clothes and cautiously took off the newborn's nappy. It was relatively clean, but Ron knew better, and he ducked just in time for a string of urine arched over Ron's head and pooled on the carpet centimeters away from him. It was quickly over, much to Ron's relief, and he pulled out his wand. "Scourify!"

"Ron…I've got the nappies!" Hermione announced happily as she walked into the room. "Wait…what's wrong? You don't look too happy."

"Alex almost peed on me," said Ron with a shudder. He turned around a looked at his son. "You're truly a boy, aren't you?"

Alex smiled and kicked his legs happily. Ron grinned down at him.

"Here…you go on to bed, and I'll change him," said Hermione, kneeling down beside Ron.

"You're sure?"

She nodded. "Yeah…go ahead…I know you're tired."

Ron tried to stifle a yawn, but Hermione caught him. "Go," she said, pointing at the bed. "Alex and I will be fine. And if he's not, he'll let you know."

"Alright…'Night, love. 'Night, Alex." He kissed Alex and Hermione's foreheads before getting into bed. He was asleep within seconds, and didn't wake up for another three hours, and that was only because he had to go to work.

* * *

"Well…that's it, Alex," said Annabel, rather sadly, as she placed the pictures back into their neat order and popped the lip on top. "No more."

"No?" Alex looked around at her and frowned.

Annabel shook her head. "But you know what it is time for? Your bedtime."

Alex yawned.

"Yes…I know you're tired…so we're going to take a little nap, alright?" Annabel placed the box back on the stack of photo albums and rearranged Alex so that he was lying comfortably on her shoulder. She patted his back and cooed softly in his ear, and when his breathing started to deepen, she got up and placed him in his basinet. He was sleeping soundly now, and Annabel covered him with his blanket and leaned down to kiss his cheek. "Goodnight, Alex."

Ron and Hermione turned up an hour and a half later, and Hermione immediately rushed into the living room, where Annabel was seated at the table, looking over her Potions notes.

"He's upstairs sleeping," she said, before Hermione could open her mouth, and without looking up from her work. "I've been checking on his every fifteen minutes to make sure he hasn't choked."

"Thank you, Anna." Hermione smiled at her baby sister, impressed, and moved to sit next to her. "Ron, would you go--?"

"Yes," he said immediately before rushing upstairs.

"How was the party?" asked Annabel, looking up from her book.

"It was fun," said Hermione truthfully. "It was nice to get away for a little while, but we missed Alex so we came back home."

"I see," said Annabel, nodding. She began to gather up her things. "Well, then, I need to get home, so I'll see you two lovebirds later. And tell Alex goodbye for me. I told him goodnight, but goodbye and goodnight don't mean the same thing—"

"Get out, Anna."

"I am." Annabel slung her bag over her shoulder and walked over to the backdoor with a goodbye wave to her sister.

Meanwhile, Ron was upstairs in his and Hermione's room, scribbling something on a sheet of parchment. He used some of the Muggle tape Matthew Granger had given to him for his birthday to attach the parchment to the photo in his hand, and looked over at Alex once again to check if he was breathing. He was, so he picked up the box labeled _Special Moments_ and carefully placed the newest photo neatly on top of the others.

It was the picture Harry had just taken of Ron and Hermione at the party, Ron's arm draped around Hermione and Hermione's head was on Ron's shoulder. Neither of them was looking at the camera, but at each other, and they were giving each other that look that was only meant for the two of them and no one else.

Ron smiled distantly at it, and at the parchment attached to the photo. _'Twas the night before Christmas, 24 December: 19:45 — Our first night out after six months of Alex being born._

Ron padded over to Alex's basinet once again and ran a finger down his son's long, yet adorable nose. He felt so overwhelmed with every emotion possible whenever he looked at Alex—hope, worry, fear, love—and it was the most wonderful and terrifying feeling in the world. He felt a lump start to form in the vicinity of his throat, and he swallowed before uttering four words from the very depths of his heart. "I love you, Alex."

_-Finis_

* * *

**Well, that's it. If The Fates Allow is now officially over. I hope everyone enjoyed this sequel/epilogue, and all your unanswered questions were answered. Thanks so much to everyone! It means so much to me that someone actually enjoys something I create, so thank you very, very, very much.**


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